by James, E L
She groans and tips her hips toward my hand in greeting.
Oh, my greedy girl.
“Please,” she whispers.
“Oh. You’re so ready,” I murmur in appreciation, and slowly slide my fingers in. And out. And in. And out. And in. “Do car chases turn you on?”
“You turn me on.”
Her words feed my hunger, and I withdraw my hand and slide my arm beneath her knees and lift her so she’s fully on my lap, facing the windshield.
She gasps. But she starts grinding down on me.
I groan. “Place your legs either side of mine,” I order, and run my hands down her outer thighs, then back up, yanking her skirt out of the way. “Hands on my knees, baby. Lean forward, lift that glorious ass in the air. Mind your head.” She raises her beautiful behind and I unzip my jeans, freeing my heavy cock. Putting one arm around her waist, with my other hand I tug her panties sideways and, lifting my hips, force her down and thrust balls-deep inside her in one swift move.
My breath whistles through my lips. Yes!
“Ah,” Ana cries out for anyone to hear, and she grinds down on me.
I groan, teeth clenched. She feels out of this world. I grasp her jaw and lean her back against me and angle her head so I can kiss her throat. Grabbing her hip with my other hand to keep her steady, I move into her, and I’m in deep. She pushes up and starts to ride me. Hard. Fast. Frantic.
Ah… I bite down on her earlobe.
She moans and moves and together we set a heady, desperate pace.
Her rising and falling. Me, bucking into her.
I move my fingers to her clitoris and start to tease her through her panties.
Ana makes a garbled cry, and the sound does nothing for my restraint.
Shit. I’m going to come. “Be. Quick,” I rasp in her ear. “We need to do this quick, Ana.”
Sweat beads on my brow, and I increase the pressure on her clitoris, circling around and around with my fingers.
“Oh,” Ana cries.
“Come on, baby. I want to hear you.”
We move. And move. And then I feel her. Building. Ready.
Oh, thank God. I slam into her once more and she tips her head back on my shoulder so she’s facing the roof of the car.
“Yes!” I grind out between my teeth and she comes. Loudly.
“Oh, Ana.” I wrap her in my arms and climax deep inside her.
When I return to reality, my head is bent against hers, and she’s limp on top of me. I run my nose along her jaw and kiss her throat, her cheek, and her temple. “Tension relieved, Mrs. Grey?” I tug her earlobe. She whimpers, in a good way, and I smile. That’s a great sound. “Certainly helped with mine,” I murmur, and shift her forward, withdrawing from her. “Lost your voice?”
“Yes,” she breathes.
“Well, aren’t you the wanton creature? I had no idea you were such an exhibitionist.”
She sits up immediately, watchful and wary. Her fatigue, a memory. “No one’s watching, are they?” She scours the parking lot.
“Do you think I’d let anyone watch my wife come?” I stroke my hand down her back and she calms, turning around to give me a sweet playful smile.
“Car sex!” she exclaims, and her eyes flare with a sense of achievement, I think.
I grin. Yes. It’s a first for me, too, Ana. I tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “Let’s head back. I’ll drive.” Leaning forward, I open the car door, and Ana clambers off my lap so I can do up my fly.
When I’m back in the driver’s seat I call our security detail.
“Mr. Grey, it’s Ryan.”
“Where’s Sawyer?” I snap.
“At Escala.”
“And the Dodge?”
“I’m following the Dodge south on I-5.”
“How come Sawyer’s not with you?”
“He thought it better to wait at Escala once we saw her—”
“Her?” I gasp.
“Yes. The driver is a woman,” says Ryan. “I was going to follow her to see if we can ID her.”
“Stick with her.”
“Will do.”
I hang up and look at Ana.
“The driver of the Dodge is female?” She sounds shocked.
“So it would appear.” I have no idea who it might be. It can’t be Elena, and surely not Leila. Not after all the work that Flynn has put in with her. “Let’s get you home.”
The R8 growls to life, and I reverse out of the space and head home.
“Where’s the, um, unsub? What does that mean, by the way? Sounds very BDSM.”
“It stands for unknown subject. Ryan is ex-FBI.”
“Ex-FBI?”
“Don’t ask.” That’s a long story about doing the right thing, protecting an innocent, and getting fired for it. I’ll tell her over dinner. He’s probably why we know the plates on the Dodge were false. He has extensive connections.
“Well, where is this female unsub?” Ana continues.
“On I-5, heading south.” Whoever it is drove past our place, scouted it out, and left. Who the hell is it?
Ana reaches over and runs her fingers down my inner thigh.
Whoa.
We’re stopped at a red. I scoop her hand into mine to stop its progress to my dick. “No. We’ve made it this far. You don’t want me to have an accident three blocks from home.” I kiss her index finger and release her, and concentrate on getting us back in one piece. I need a thorough debrief from Sawyer. I’m pissed that there was someone waiting for us outside my parents’ house. Surely they should have seen the Dodge.
What the hell am I paying them for?
Ana is quiet until we approach the garage at Escala. “Female?” she says out of nowhere. She sounds incredulous.
“Apparently so.” I sigh and punch in the code to raise the gate to the garage.
Yeah. I wish I knew who. Welch has investigated all my ex-submissives, even those from the private club I used to frequent. They’re all in the clear, as I knew they would be. I’ll check on Leila via Flynn, but last I heard she was happy back in the bosom of her family.
I ease the R8 into her designated space.
“I really like this car,” Ana says, giving me a welcome break from my dark thoughts.
“Me too. And I like how you handled it—and how you managed not to break it.”
She smirks. “You can buy me one for my birthday.”
Anastasia Ste…Grey! I gape at her, shocked. I don’t think she’s ever asked me for anything, but she steps out of the car before I can respond. I’m so astonished I don’t know what to say. Once out, before she closes the door, she bends down and flashes me a sassy grin. “A white one, I think.”
I laugh. White. Apt choice. She is the light to my darkness. “Anastasia Grey, you never cease to amaze me.”
She shuts the door and I get out after her. She’s waiting by the trunk, looking every bit the just-fucked goddess who wants a two-hundred-thousand-dollar car.
She’s never asked me for anything.
Why is that so hot?
Leaning down, I whisper, “You like the car. I like the car. I’ve fucked you in it. Perhaps I should fuck you on it.”
She gasps and her cheeks pink in that delightful way I love. The sound of a car pulling into the garage distracts me. It’s a silver 3 Series BMW.
Cockblocker.
“But it looks like we have company. Come.” Taking her hand, I guide her to the elevator. Sadly, we have to wait and we’re joined by Mr. BMW Cockblocker. He looks my age. Maybe younger.
“Hi,” he says, with an appreciative smile aimed at my wife.
I put my arm around Ana.
Back off, bud.
“I’ve just moved in. Apartment sixteen,” he gushes at her.
�
��Hello,” Ana says, her tone nothing but friendly.
We’re saved by the elevator. Once inside, I keep Ana close. I glance down at her, willing her not to engage with this stranger.
“You’re Christian Grey,” he says.
Yep. That’s me.
“Noah Logan.” He holds out his hand. Reluctantly, I extend mine and he gives me a damp, overenthusiastic handshake. “Which floor?” he asks.
“I have to input a code.”
“Oh.”
“Penthouse.”
“Oh. Of course.” He presses the button for his floor and the doors close. “Mrs. Grey, I presume.” He simpers like a nervous eighth-grader with an epic crush.
“Yes.” She gives him a sweet smile, and they shake hands and the fucker blushes.
Blushes!
“When did you move in?” Ana asks, and I tighten my hold on her.
Don’t encourage him.
“Last weekend. I love the place.”
She smiles. Again!
Mercifully, the elevator stops at his floor. “Great to meet you both,” he says, sounding relieved, and steps out. The doors close behind him, and I enter the code for the penthouse into the keypad.
“He seemed nice,” Ana says. “I’ve never met any of the neighbors before.”
I grimace. “I prefer it that way.”
“That’s because you’re a hermit. I thought he was pleasant enough.”
“A hermit?”
“Hermit. Stuck in your ivory tower,” Ana says, deadpan.
I try, really try, to suppress my smile. “Our ivory tower,” I correct her. “And I think you have another name to add to the list of your admirers, Mrs. Grey.”
She rolls her eyes heavenward. “Christian, you think everyone is an admirer.”
Oh. Sweet. Joy.
“Did you just roll your eyes at me?”
She looks up at me from beneath her lashes. “I sure did,” she whispers.
Oh, Mrs. Grey.
I cock my head to one side. The day has just improved one thousand percent. “What shall we do about that?”
“Something rough.”
Fuck. Her words are arousing.
“Rough?” I swallow.
“Please.”
“You want more?”
She nods, not taking her eyes off me. It’s so fucking hot.
The doors of the elevator open, but neither of us step out. We just stare at each other, our attraction, our yearning, sparking between us like static. Ana’s eyes darken, like mine, I’m sure.
“How rough?” I ask.
Ana’s teeth sink into her full lower lip, but she says nothing.
Oh. Dear. God.
I close my eyes to savor this sensual moment, then grab her hand and march out of the elevator and through the double doors of the foyer. Sawyer is waiting.
Hell.
“Sawyer, I’d like to be debriefed in an hour,” I state, wanting him gone.
“Yes, sir.” He heads back into Taylor’s office.
Good. I look down at my wife. “Rough?”
She nods, her expression serious.
“Well, Mrs. Grey, you’re in luck. I’m taking requests today.” My mind races with possibilities. “Do you have anything in mind?”
She raises her left shoulder in a coquettish shrug.
What does that mean? “Kinky fuckery?” I ask, to be clear.
She nods an emphatic yes, but her face flushes.
“Carte blanche?” I ask.
Her eyes flick to mine, and they’re brimming with curiosity and sensuality. “Yes.” Her husky affirmation feeds the flames of my desire.
“Come.” We head upstairs to the playroom. “After you, Mrs. Grey.” I unlock the door and step aside, and Ana strolls into my favorite room. I follow her in, switching on the lights. Ana turns, watching me as I lock the door.
Take a breath, Grey.
I love this moment.
Building anticipation.
It’s exhilarating.
She stands there, waiting. Wanting. Mine.
Last time we were in here, I put her in the harness.
A memory of that flits through my mind. That was fun.
What shall I do with her today?
“What do you want, Anastasia?”
“You.”
“You’ve got me. You’ve had me since you fell into my office.”
“Surprise me, then, Mr. Grey.”
She’s so bold. “As you wish, Mrs. Grey.” Folding my arms, I tap my index finger against my lip.
I know what I’d like to do.
I’ve wanted to do it for a long, long time.
But first things first.
“I think we’ll start by ridding you of your clothes.” Stepping forward, I grasp her short denim jacket, ease it off her shoulders, and drop it to the floor; her camisole is next. “Lift your arms.” She does as she’s told and I peel it off her lovely body. I offer her a soft, sweet kiss, then discard her top so it lands on her jacket. She’s wearing a lacy black bra, her nipples visible and pressing through the fabric.
My wife is hot.
“Here,” she says and, to my surprise, offers me a hair tie.
My dark confession in Saint-Paul-de-Vence has done nothing to discourage her, or to keep her away from me.
Don’t overthink this, Grey.
I take it from her. “Turn around.”
She does, with a small, private smile, and I wonder what she’s thinking about.
Don’t go there, either, Grey.
Quickly, I braid her hair and fasten it. With a tug, I pull her head back. “Good thinking, Mrs. Grey,” I murmur, my lips brushing her ear, then I nip her earlobe. “Now turn around and take your skirt off. Let it fall to the floor.”
She steps forward, turns on her heel, and with her eyes on mine, she unfastens her skirt and slides the zipper down, slowly. Her skirt flares out like a parasol and drifts to her feet.
She is Aphrodite.
“Step out from your skirt.”
She complies and I kneel at her feet and grasp her ankle, unbuckling each of her sandals in turn. Once they’re off, I sit back on my heels and gaze up at my wife. In black lacy underwear, she’s spectacular. “You’re a fine sight, Mrs. Grey.” Kneeling up, I grab her hips and yank her forward, burying my nose at the blessed junction of her thighs.
She gasps as I inhale. “And you smell of you and me and sex. It’s intoxicating.” I kiss the top of her sweet cleft through the lace, then release her and gather her clothes and shoes before standing. With my hands full, I point with my chin. “Go and stand beside the table.” I make my way to the chest of drawers. When I glance back at Ana, she’s watching me like a hawk.
This will never do.
“Face the wall. That way you won’t know what I’m planning. We aim to please, Mrs. Grey, and you wanted a surprise.”
Ana obeys, and I drop her shoes beside the door and place her clothes on the chest. I strip off my shirt, remove my own shoes, and glance at her. She’s still facing the wall. Good. From the butt drawer, I extract what I need, and leave the items on the chest while I find some music on the iPod: Pink Floyd, “The Great Gig in the Sky.”
Okay. Let’s see if she goes for this.
Moving back to Ana, I place my haul on the table, out of her sight line.
“Rough, you say, Mrs. Grey?” I whisper into her ear.
“Hmm.”
“You must tell me to stop if it’s too much. If you say stop, I will stop immediately. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“I need your promise.”
“I promise,” she whispers, her tone husky with want.
“Good girl.” I kiss her shoulder and then hook my finger beneath the
bra strap across her back and gently run my finger under it, skimming over her flesh. “Take it off,” I order.
I want her naked.
Hastily, she unhooks the back and lets it fall. Coasting my hands down her back to her hips, I hook my thumbs into her panties and slip them down her lovely legs. When I reach her ankles, I ask her to step out of them, and she obliges.
At eye level with her beautiful behind, I kiss one cheek, knowing that we’re about to get better acquainted, and I stand. A thrill runs through me; I’ve been waiting for this moment.
“I’m going to blindfold you so that everything will be more intense,” I murmur, and slip an airline eye mask over her eyes. Around us, the music swells and the singer lets loose, as if she’s mid-climax.
Apt.
“Bend down and lie flat on the table. Now.”
Ana’s shoulders rise and fall quickly as her breathing escalates, but she does as she’s told and lays down over the table.
“Stretch your arms up and hold on to the edge.”
She reaches up and clutches the far edge. The table is wide, so her arms are fully extended.
“If you let go, I will spank you. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to spank you, Anastasia?”
Her lips part as she takes in a breath. “Yes,” she whispers, her voice hoarse.
“Why?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer, though I think she’s trying to shrug.
“Tell me,” I prompt.
“Um.”
I smack her hard across her ass, the sound echoing over the music and through the playroom. “Ah!” she cries out. For me, both sounds are deeply, deeply satisfying.
“Hush now.” I gently rub her backside. Standing right behind her, I bend over her body, my cock straining against my jeans, and my fly digging into the soft swell of her behind as I plant a kiss between her shoulder blades. Slowly, I leave a trail of wet kisses across her back. When I stand, my saliva glistens in little patches on her skin.
“Open your legs.”
She shuffles her feet apart.
“Wider.”
She moans and does as she’s told.
“Good girl,” I whisper, and run my index finger down her spine, down to her coccyx, and over her anus. It shrinks and puckers beneath my touch. “We’re going to have some fun with this,” I whisper.